Page 156 of Fate of the Sun King

“How? Why?” Erevan asks, and these are very good questions.

“I can’t tell you everything,” Lor says. “But you’ll have to trust me. No one hates that man more than I do. Well, except for maybe him.”

She looks at me with a sad smile, and I tip my chin.

“Guilty,” I add.

Erevan blows out a long breath, considering our words. He runs a hand through his blond hair.

“The truth is we were planning to start a riot, but I’m not sure that will be enough to do what you’re asking. It’s not like we haven’t tried this before. I’ve been hoping for some way to make this one more definitive than the others, but so far, nothing of significance has materialized. There are too many guards, and Atlas has them all on alert. You aren’t the first to hear of the rumors.”

“You want a diversion that Atlas will notice?” A voice comes from the door, and all three of us look over to find Gabriel. He storms into the room and stops. There’s a wild light in his eyes, and his jaw is set hard enough to crack through marble. “You wanted something that would embarrass Atlas and tarnish his name? I know a secret that not only will get everyone’s attention but will change Aphelion forever.”

And then he clutches his chest with a grunt and collapses to the floor.

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

KING HERRIC

THE EVANESCENCE: THE SECOND AGE

“Can I get you a drink?” Zerra asked from where she lounged across the room, her elbow propped up on the back of her chair and her tanned legs bared by the slit in her dress. She rubbed her thighs together and licked her lips as she stared at Herric. “Why are you all the way over there?”

Herric pushed himself from the pillar where he was leaning, ran a hand through his hair, and strode over, settling into a closer seat. She reached over and adjusted the collar of his shirt.

“Hmm?” she prompted, and he nodded. “Anything, my dear?”

“Some water would be good.”

It had been years of capitulating to Zerra’s invitations, arriving to service her with his head or his hips between her thighs. While he hadn’t minded at first—he’d even enjoyed it for a time—he was growing weary of this mundane relationship. If that’s what one could call it. There was no passion here, only duty and necessity.

One of Zerra’s servants arrived with the promised drink balanced on a silver tray. She bent low, giving him an eyeful of cleavage.

That’s all this place was. Sex and drinking masquerading as this sham of the divine. Zerra was meant to be ruling over Ouranos, not partaking in the same vacuous entertainment she’d indulged as a mortal. For the millionth time, Herric wondered what the Empyrium had been thinking when they’d chosen her.

Soon, he hoped, it wouldn’t matter.

Today, he would test the theory he’d been working on for years.

Around his finger he swirled a ring made of the same glittering black stone his workers had mined from the mountain. The same enchanted material recovered after the collapse.

He’d spent countless hours testing its properties, and it hadn’t taken long to realize he could channel magic through it. Not only that, he could use it to amplify and control the gifts he’d received when he ascended to High Fae.

He had his crews working around the clock as they pulled up more of the material. Herric had built an entire castle from it, confident in the protection of the stone that surrounded him, which he had dubbed virulence.

On one of his visits to the Evanescence, he’d channeled a thread of magic through his ring, and shortly after, Zerra had complained of a headache. She’d then taken to her bed for the rest of his visit.

At first, he’d thought nothing of it. But then he began to notice a pattern. Anytime he made use of the stone while visiting the heavens, Zerra would take ill. Over time, he worked with the theory that somehow, it was affecting her.

“You’re quiet today,” Zerra said, dragging a hand down his chest, before she fisted her hand in his shirt and dragged him closer. Her touch was starting to make his skin crawl, but he would endure this for as long as it took. Today, he would verify his hypothesis with a larger surge of magic channeled through his ring.

“Just tired,” he said with a tight smile as he took a sip of his water.

“Poor baby,” she cooed as she slid off her velvet lounger and dropped to her knees, peering up at him with a coy flutter of her lashes. “Maybe I can help.”

She undid his belt, then the button on his waistband as he tried his best not to tense up. He’d loved this once—she was very skilled, and he’d never put much stock into love or feelings—but he was over it. She was pathetic and desperate, and he was mentally done with her and this entire place.

This all belonged to him, and he intended to take it.